Time and Time Again: Book 1
by SilverLight7
Summary: Harry has finally done what he had set out to do,but the price had been too high. With the help of the Headmasters' portraits, he decides to go back and see if he can change the hands of time and fate. Time travel. Slight AU from DH. HPGW, RWHG
1. Prologue

Hello everyone. Well, this is my first time posting anything up here…I hope it isn't too bad. I wanted to give the whole "time-traveling Harry" thing a shot, mostly because of S'TarKan's Nightmares of Futures Past. It's a really great fic in my opinion and was the basis of my inspiration. Anyway, please read on. I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

"blah" speech

'_blah_' thoughts

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all things associated do not belong to me.

* * *

**Harry James Potter, twenty-seven years old, sighed as he collapsed on an worn, wooden chair that lay in a familiar round room. As he sat in the still silence of the room he'd once associated with a feeling of warmth and comfort, he thought about something he hardly gave a second of attention to for the last few years…

His life.

His life had started its downward spiral the moment Sybill Patricia Trelawney had made her prediction. He was the one who was destined to defeat Voldemort, the darkest wizard of his time. He was the one who had suffered years of mistreatment and loneliness because he had lost his parents. He was the one who had to face the situations that arose because of who he was.

He was the one who had lost everything dear to him in order to fulfill a prophecy.

Harry bit back a sob as he thought of all the people he had come across, both the ones he considered friends and family and all of the innocents, that had died because of the war. No being, magical or not, had been safe. Now he, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was just about the only one left. Britain had fallen horribly at the hands of Voldemort, and after the Dark Lord had grown tired of Britain, he went for all of Europe. It had taken the aid of several other countries to bring the war back to their favor, and even longer for Voldemort himself to finally be defeated. Of _course _Harry had been the one to bring him down, seeing as he was the _only _one who could.

But the cost had been far too high…

Now he sat in his old Headmaster's office, without a purpose. _That_ had died long ago with everyone else. The only thing that had kept him going was Voldemort, but now that he was gone, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. '_No_,' he thought. '_That's not true…_' There was something he had been discussing with the portraits of the late Headmasters. Something that now plagued his thoughts relentlessly and caused him to repeat the same question to himself over and over again.

If he tried…could he save them?

This brought up the morality of it all. He had lived his life, however bad it may have been, and while he was still considered to be young, should he really go back and try to create a better life? What right did he have to mess with time? Yes, he could save lives, but how would he do so? Manipulate them? Just as Dumbledore had done with the best intentions?

Would he cause his loved ones to follow him blindly?

'_But Dumbledore made one mistake that you would never commit_,' a voice in his head added. '_You would be honest of your intentions, and would not keep things from the ones you care about in hopes of protecting them…_' The voice made a valid point, he reasoned. He thought of Dumbledore like a grandfather, but even he had committed mistakes. When speaking with the old Headmaster's portrait, it had admitted that if he had had the knowledge he did now while he was still alive, he might have attempted to go back in time himself. Harry had understood his hidden desire. Dumbledore would've tried to keep his sister alive. This brought up another question.

Would he have to lose certain people again?

Dumbledore's confession had come with a warning. He told of the dangers of messing with the flow of time. Sometimes, certain events are meant to happen, and to keep them from occurring, he could create a future far worse than the one he was in. He would have to choose each action carefully and try to redo everything as close to his past as he could. Changing events too fast and without thought would render his advantage of knowing future events useless. When Harry had asked about Sirius and Wormtail, Dumbledore had only laughed, a twinkle in the painting's eyes that Harry wasn't sure was there before.

"My dear boy," he had said. "That, I will leave entirely up to you, although I already feel somewhat guilty for whatever you might put the Ministry through." Harry, twenty at the time, had only grinned. It seemed that Dumbledore had had a bit of a devious side as well. That, or he approved of the choice Harry was considering concerning his Godfather…

'_I'll never know when it comes to him_,' he thought in slight amusement. However, his mood quickly sobered. Should he go through with this? He thought about all of those who had lost their lives: Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Tonks, the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, Colin…At the mention of the boy, he paused. Sure, he had been annoying in the short amount of time that Harry had known him, but he had held enough courage to rival some people twice his age. Colin had come back to Hagwarts while it was under siege because he had wanted to help. Harry may have had a terrible childhood, but at least he'd had one. Colin was just a little boy…He didn't deserve such a fate. Harry sighed once more, then smiled faintly.

His decision was made.

He stood up, albeit a little shakily, and walked over to a large bookcase. There, he pulled out one of the books and stood back as the bookcase slid to the left, revealing a large bedroom on the other side. Harry smiled slightly as he entered. Some of the most talented witches and wizards could come into the Headmaster's office and not find a thing. This is because they failed to study the way Muggles think. It had been Dumbledore who told Harry how to enter the room, and it was his portrait that he now found himself looking at. Something in the way the portrait looked back told Harry that he knew of his choice. Neither of them said a word, and Harry only nodded before starting his task…

After checking once more that everything was set correctly, he sat down on a couch. Dumbledore's portrait watched him do so with nothing more that a curious expression. Harry was the first to break the silence which had settled between them by sighing.

"Albus…do you really think I'm doing the right thing?" He asked the portrait. Dumbledore looked at him a few moments before releasing his own sigh.

"Harry, there is no definite view on what is right and wrong. It depends mostly on the reasons behind our actions, and even then there will be disagreements," he answered slowly.

"What do you think, then?" He questioned while finding interest in the spider web that hung above him, long abandoned by its maker.

"I think I would've done the same, but then again, I was very selfish in my younger years." He replied simply.

Harry resisted the urge to scoff. "And I'm not?"

Dumbledore smiled at this. "No Harry, you are quite the opposite. Your selflessness, however, was sometimes hidden by your rashness and anger. Some of it which, alas, was created in part by myself."

Harry shook his head. "You didn't know, Albus. You just wanted me to live a normal life, I can't blame you for that. In fact, I appreciate the gesture."

He smiled at Dumbledore's touched face, but it fell slightly as a thought came to him. "Should I tell your past self about this?"

Dumbledore's face also fell at the question. "Alas, I strongly advise against doing so, at least until you convince my counterpart of your true nature. I admit part of the reason I kept so much from you was because you showed a troubling amount of similarities to Tom Riddle. I feared that if I revealed too much you might fall victim to the same fate."

A younger Harry might have been outraged at such a suggestion, but he knew better now. Dumbledore, while quite strange at times, was quite logical as well. Harry could see the reasons why Dumbledore had thought this, for he had constantly gotten angry for the most foolish reasons when he was younger. Anger was what had created Voldemort.

Harry smirked. "I guess I'll have to work on that right away then, won't I?" Yes, he could definitely see a twinkle in the portrait's eyes now. Harry looked around the room one last time. "Well…I guess I should get on with this…" He took out his wand, and checked once more to see if everything was correct. Once he sat down again and pointed his wand at himself, he paused.

"Hey, Albus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Will I have to kill myself again after this because of the accidental Horcrux inside of my past self?"

"Perhaps…"

The almost insane twinkling in the eyes of Dumbledore's portrait told Harry that he knew more than he let on. That alone was enough to make him snort.

"Mysterious as always…Well, goodbye Albus." He said quietly.

"Goodbye, Harry."

Harry concentrated on his darker memories. The way he had treated his friends when he was younger, what his rash actions caused, the people he couldn't save…He embraced his hatred for the last time and let out two single words: _Adava Kedavra_. A jolt of green light shot out and hit him in the chest, causing him to fall back against the couch, dead. Dumbledore's portrait looked at Harry's body a moment before smiling.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had always been a strange person. His portrait was no exception. Even as a young boy he'd had a strange affiliation with time. Harry had glimpsed that connection in his third year during the ordeal with Sirius. Unfortunately, being host to such a wonderful, yet terrible, connection rendered him quite unable to act upon any of the events he would gain some foresight into. The most he could do was coax another into action.

While alive, he'd only been able to see through certain things, such as what Harry and Hermione had been doing with Buckbeak and Sirius. His portrait however, did much more. It would remember things it had seen, heard, or experienced and remember them, above the flow of time. So, even as he saw things change before his eyes, he did not forget the past he had known. New memories were added to the old as a familiar voice spoke to him.

"Hello, Albus."

Dumbledore's portrait smiled.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Well, hope you enjoyed it. If you have any questions or comments, please let me know. I'll try to respond to them as best as I can.

Also, please review if you liked it so I can see if I should continue.


	2. Chapter 1

Umm, it's been a while hasn't it? To be honest, right after I posted the first chapter, I lost a lot of interest in Harry Potter. Since then, I've found myself really busy. Now that my interest seems to revived itself, and I have a bit more spare time, I hope to pick this up again.

As I went over the first chapter, I felt like smacking my head against a desk. I think I was probably on something when I wrote it. It just seemed so…bleh. I'd like to think my writing's improved since then. I suppose I'll let the readers be the judge of that, though. I know that one day, I will go back and fix it…

That day is not today.

That aside, thanks to those who reviewed. It meant a lot. I hope I can meet your expectations for this, very long overdue, chapter.

Please read and enjoy. Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.

SSSS = scene change, time skip, all things of that sort.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. **

Chapter 2

The first thing that Harry registered was that it was dark. The second…

'_I feel like I just splinched myself and then got run over by a bloody hippogriff…'_

That seemed like an accurate enough description.

Harry rubbed his forehead gingerly. The pain coming from his scar made the other pains in his body seem trivial (although, when he thought back on his arrival at a later date, he would say it was like comparing breaking all of his bones vs. re-growing them…neither of them being particularly pleasant).

Harry grit his teeth in an attempt to block out the pain. He had gotten worse injuries, being in a war it was somewhat of a given, but it never made dealing with the pain any easier.

As soon as it started to dull, he began the task of figuring out where, or rather, _when_ he was. The answer came quickly without the pain in his head distracting him.

He was in his cupboard. So it had to be somewhere between his third and eleventh birthday (before then, he had slept on the floor in a corner of the living room; and would have probably continued had the neighbors not begun to notice). So he still had time to-

Wait…

'_Did I just call it __**my**__ cupboard?'_

He sighed. This was **just** what he needed. To claim anything in this horrid house as his. The last time he'd done so was when he'd received his Hogwarts letter, and that was with-

…the cupboard. Bloody hell.

Still, he supposed it _was_ his only safe haven while he'd been growing up. Aunt Petunia had always been hesitant to lay a hair in the small enclosure, even after he'd moved into the spare bedroom, and it wasn't just because of him.

He frowned slightly. In the later years of the war, the Dursleys had to take refuge in the very world they hated. It wasn't because they were relatives to the one Voldemort had hated most, as one would have expected shortly after his sixth year in Hogwarts. It was because Voldemort had finally begun to do what he'd set out to do all those years ago during his first rise to power.

Eradicate every single muggle and muggleborn.

It had been utter chaos. Once the statue of secrecy had been broken, people fled in terror at even the slightest sign of magic. The few loyal Aurors that remained were attacked while trying to help them get to safety. Dudley, in a rare show of intelligence, had sided with Harry when he tried to convince them that it was no longer safe in Privet Drive. Being saved from dementors could do that to a person, he supposed. Harry withheld a sigh. To think that everything before his seventh year had been the _easy_ part.

'_And now I have to do it all again…'_

The question of how he would go about changing things still burned in his mind. He would have to be very careful not to change too much, no matter how much he just wanted to storm the ministry this very moment and demand a trial for Sirius.

He snorted softly at the thought. _'I'd be locked up for questioning faster than you can say Azkaban,' _he added in dark amusement. '_Then where would I be?'_ Still, he couldn't let things go the way they had before, or then what would be the point of coming back to begin with? With a increasingly sinking feeling in his stomach, he came to the conclusion that the best way would be to plan it all out. Decide who lived and who-…

He shook his head fervently, eliminating the thought from his mind entirely. He refused to do such a thing if he could help it. There had to be a way to change things for the better without suffering too many casualties. If that meant more risk of it not working, than he would do so without any hesitation. He would not play with life like that. Never.

'_So what do I do then?'_

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He really wished Hermione was here. She would probably know what to do. '_But she __**is **__here,' _he mentally chided himself_. 'And you have to make sure she __**stays**__ here.' _He stood up, the springs of his cot screeching in protest. For the moment, he wouldn't worry too much about the magical world. His main priority now would be to survive life with the Dursleys once more.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Comb your hair boy!"

Harry couldn't control the slight, involuntary jump at his uncle's sharp greeting. It felt like ages since he'd heard it, though he would have to get used to the fact that it had probably been the day before. His first reaction had been to reach for his wand, but when his fingers met air, he only ended up looking more than a little ridiculous. He heard a snicker from his right and turned to see Dudley sitting at the table, sardonic grin in place and larger than he remembered.

It had never occurred to Harry just how sorry he'd felt for his cousin.

"Morning, Uncle Vernon," he replied in the same voice he vaguely remembered using all those years ago while, somewhat hesitantly, relaxing his arm. It wouldn't do to get on their bad side. Not when he knew he would have to come back here during the summer.

Apparently Aunt Petunia was of a different mindset.

"Morning?!" she screeched. "It's nine o'clock! You should have been up three hours ago! Now hurry up and eat so that you can get started on your chores!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

He sat down and quickly began consuming his breakfast. It wasn't much- just a bit of scrambled eggs and a piece of toast- and it was a far cry from Mrs. Weasley's cooking, but compared to the meager rations he'd had for the last few years of the war, it was just about the best food he'd ever eaten.

He didn't notice the strange expression on his aunt's face as he ate.

Once he was done with his meal, he was sent out to weed the garden. As he stepped out, he took a moment to look around. Privet Drive had always prided itself in being a model neighborhood. Every lawn was kept immaculate, every car in top condition, and the people were cordial and polite.

That was what it was _supposed_ to be, anyway. Even if it didn't quite live up to those standards, seeing it as it was now as opposed to the ruin he knew it would become was strangely comforting.

'_It really is a nice neighborhood,'_ he thought to himself. _'Too bad it felt more like a prison.'_

After weeding the garden, he was sent to mow the lawn, then wash the car, and finally to fix a section of the fence that had fallen. By the time he stepped inside, his entire body was sore and exhausted. It was a painful reminder that he was no longer a twenty-seven year old man, but a- he cast a brief glance at the calendar on the kitchen counter- ten year old boy.

'_Ten…There's little less than a year until I get my Hogwarts letter.'_

The thought sent a rush of emotions through him. Hogwarts. He would be seeing all of his friends…his family…Would he be able to look them in the eye without wanting to cry his eyes out in happiness? Going by how painfully his heart was twisting, he wasn't sure that he could. It was wonderful and horrible all the same.

"Wipe your shoes before coming inside! You left dirt all over my clean floor!"

He sluggishly raised his head to meet Aunt Petunia's signature glare and pursed lips. Too tired to complain, he only nodded.

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. The boy's behavior had been off all morning. It was slight, enough so that she doubted her husband or son noticed, but there was little that escaped Petunia Dursley.

"Clean it up then!"

"Okay."

She turned and left the kitchen with a scowl, a little annoyance flaring up within her. She wasn't quite sure what it was yet, but she would figure it out soon. Until then, she would have to keep a closer watch on him.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The next few months passed too slowly for Harry's tastes. After the first week, he came up with a schedule to help pass the time. He would wake up, go for a run, take a shower, make breakfast, eat some of said breakfast, go to school (he'd completely forgotten about muggle school), come back, do chores, do his homework, then wander around outside until it was time for dinner.

Needless to say, he was becoming very restless.

Sure, the runs were helping him release some of that restlessness, with the added bonus of getting him closer to the physical fitness he remembered having, and attending classes at his old school took his mind off some of his worries by distracting him for a while, but it wasn't nearly enough. His plans for his first year at Hogwarts had reached a frustrating halt that no amount of running or school seemed to be able to cure. There wasn't much he could do here at Privet Drive, and it was driving him mad.

By the time Dudley's birthday came around, he was entertaining the thought of knocking down Mrs. Figg's door and flooing over to the Leaky Cauldron. It would be interesting to see how far he could get with something like that. Seeing the reactions of those who knew where he was, namely Dumbledore, would only add to the experience.

On the actual day, he was wondering what he was going to do.

'_Maybe I can actually convince them to let me stay this time,'_ he thought. He'd been trying hard to improve the relationship he had with the Dursleys, if only to try to avoid any and all future difficulties. So far, he'd made little progress, but he felt he at least had a slightly better chance at convincing them than last time.

'_Then again, what do I want to stay here for? I need a change of scenery, damn it!'_

He entered the kitchen to see a pile of presents on the table and Aunt Petunia getting breakfast started.

"Good morning, Aunt Petunia."

"It had better be! I want everything to be perfect on Duddy's birthday!"

Harry rolled his eyes. Some things would never change no matter how many times you went back in time.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to sweep and mop before looking after the bacon, and don't you dare let it burn!"

"Of course, Aunt Petunia."

She narrowed her eyes at him a moment, and looked as if she were going to say something, but she quickly tightened her lips and turned around. Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. His aunt had never looked at him like that before. It was an unnerving look…calculating…

She couldn't possibly know…could she?

He shook his head. That was impossible. As far as anyone here knew, muggles and wizards alike, time-travel was one of those things that would always be out of their reach. The only reason he'd been able to do so was because he had the help of some of the most brilliant minds in his time. Granted, it was only limited as a portrait was not alive and there was only so much he could do with the notes of a man who had died after a good six-hundred years shortly after his first year, but that was beside the point. The point was that he'd been extremely lucky that he'd pulled it off successfully in the first place. Fate must've been in a good mood that day.

Somehow, he doubted the same courtesy would be extended to him a second time.

Still, he would be stupid to think that there wasn't anything behind the way she was looking at him. She might not have the details, but she definitely suspected something was off. He held back a slight chuckle. He never would have thought he'd have to worry about blowing his cover around Dursleys, of all people, but Aunt Petunia seemed to like proving him wrong.

He would have to be a lot more cautious around her now.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

About an hour or so later, Harry was, once again, riding in the backseat of his uncle's car. In the end, it had played out much like the last time. Mrs. Figg still tripped over one of her cats, no one else was able to watch over him, and they still thought he'd cause mass mayhem and destruction if left alone.

The fact that he technically _could_ wasn't the point here.

Listening to Uncle Vernon's rant proved to be just as dull the second time around. Probably more so since the excitement he'd felt the first time was no longer present. When he reached the part about motorcycles, he remembered how he'd angered the man by mentioning his Godfather's own.

Just how had he been able to remember such a thing, anyway?

A thought for a later date, perhaps, but for now, he just leaned back and figured he'd keep quiet about it this time around. There was no point in tempting whatever higher powers there were by making him turn around and almost crash again now was there? It was also the reason the first part of the trip had been so miserable for him. Uncle Vernon had fumed over his comment until shortly before they reached the reptile house (where a whole new disaster had taken place).

But that had nothing to do with it. Nope. Nothing whatsoever.

He began to have doubts about his decision when Uncle Vernon bought him an ice cream identical to those of Dudley and Piers. It was a small change, probably insignificant, but he couldn't help but worry over what it meant. After staring at his uncle in disbelief for a few moments, he figured there was nothing he could do about it now and went ahead and ate the ice cream.

The lemon ice pop had tasted so much better…

Finally they reached the place Harry had been wanting to go to all day. As soon as he stepped foot inside the cool, dark walls of the reptile house, he did his best to place some distance between him, the Dursleys, and especially Piers. It was time to figure out one of the questions he'd had since his arrival. When he felt like he was far enough away, he turned to look inside of the tank. The little orange corn snake within looked up blearily at him when it realized it was being watched.

"Hello," Harry whispered hesitantly. "Can you understand me?"

He felt something sink to the pit of his stomach when it blinked and seemed to pay him more avid attention. "Er," he began anew, not wanting to believe his suspicions just yet, "So where are you from?"

He held back a curse when the snake pointed to his tank's sign with his tail. Why, of all things, did he have to regain his ability to speak parseltongue? It had brought him almost nothing but trouble, and he could honestly say he wasn't too upset he'd lost it when the horcrux inside him was destroyed. He sighed and resigned himself to the fact he'd have to die a third time in order to defeat Voldemort before looking at the sign.

"U.S., huh? Never been there."

_~It's not that great. Too many birds.~_

"That so?"

The snake nodded.

_~You're the time child, aren't you?~_

Harry was rendered speechless for a moment. He'd expected a lot of things, but not this.

"Excuse me?"

_~The time child,~ _the snake repeated._ ~My mother told me about you.~_

Harry blinked. " Not to be rude or anything but…How would your mother even know who I am anyway?"

The snake hissed in what could probably be taken as the equivalent of laughter. _~My mother was very special where I came from. The fates granted her a very particular type of Sight. It was she who told me to travel to Britain and meet you.~ _

"Why?"

_~I don't know. She was killed before she got the chance to tell me. Damn birds.~_

"Oh…"

_~Limited freedom aside, I rather like it here. Free food, cozy temperature, and not a predator nearby. So seeing as neither of us have the slightest idea what I'm here for, why don't we just pretend this never happened?~_

"Uh-"

_~Good.~_

The snake curled up snugly within a small niche in a rock. _~If you'll excuse me, I'm quite tired and there's another snake that requires your attention.~_

"What?"

The snake motioned with his head and Harry turned to see Dudley and Uncle Vernon standing in front of the Brazilian boa constrictor's tank. He immediately shook his head. "Oh no. No way. I'm not getting locked up for something that was an accident in the first place."

The snake only lowered its head and made itself even more comfortable.

_~Suit yourself. That's your decision, not mine. Anyway, nice meeting you and all that. If you ever do figure something out about dear ol' Mum, let me know, will you? You know where to find me.~ _

"…Sure"

_~Right then. Goodbye, Time Child.~_

"It's Harry."

_~Hmm?~_

"My name. My name's Harry."

_~Harry the Time Child.~_

He was starting to get a little annoyed. What was it with everyone giving him some sort of title and constantly using it?

"No. Just Harry is fine, and I don't believe I got your name."

_~Oh fine, ruin my fun. If you must know, the name's Slade.~_

"That's a weird-"

_~I'm from the U.S., what did you expect? Harry's not much better, you know. I can think of a lot of jokes for that one.~ _

"Point taken."

_~Now, if you don't mind…~_

"Oh, right. Bye."

As Harry left, he couldn't help but think that, apart from being the weirdest conversation he'd ever had, it was also the most pointless.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

There's the end of chapter two. It's a bit shorter than what I had planned, but seeing as I don't expect to take years to update again, I figure it's okay.

So as you can see, Harry is a snake-whisperer once again, giving him the skill to rehabilitate and fix all domestic-

Yea, I've been watching too much national geographic.

Joking aside, I debated for a while if I was going to give him back this particular talent. Finally deciding that it was just too cool to ignore, I went ahead with it. Since Harry plans to change the future, you can expect a few new places where snake-speak will play a part.

At first, I was just going to have him speak with the constrictor again, but then I thought that would be too boring. Thus, Slade was born.

That last bit was just to poke a bit of fun at some of the things I've read. You know, the ones that have Harry randomly find some snarky, slithery companion who knows way more than it should, become best friends, and somehow smuggle it to Hogwarts where they have many adventures until the snake either leaves or dies in a burst of flaming glory while saving Harry from peril.

Granted, Slade didn't fulfill the last parts, but at least he got the first.

Apart from this chapter, I really don't plan to include him anymore. Slade's part is done. Merely a means for Harry to see if he could still speak Parseltongue. Whether or not it stays that way remains to be seen. Who knows, maybe I'll bring him back.

Anyway, that's about all I have to say. Thanks for waiting so patiently for this chapter. Until next time!


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